Chapter Text
This was the final step.
Blake took a deep breath as she adjusted her feet on the launching platform, angled so the first somersault she did in the air would be smooth. If she gauged the distance right, it would only take a few calculated leaps to land at the midpoint between the cliff and the temple, allowing her to watch for anyone who approached. There were plenty of perches to be had in the forest; Blake knew most humans never bothered to look up, and why would they? Their prey was meant to be the Grimm, not one another.
A glance each way revealed she was in the middle of the pack, so to speak. Several students had to make the jump before she did, the line ending with that blonde boy, Jaune. On her left, a rabbit-blooded Faunus was reciting something too low to hear, the scent of Dust emanating from the girl’s skin. Such was the fate of mages; their affinity for channeling Aura made them susceptible to emotional flare-ups. Blake planned to watch her ascent with caution, considering how easy it could be to land grouped tightly together.
There was a soft huff from Blake’s right, the sound holding a high, breathless lilt. Weiss Schnee wasn’t used to be kept waiting, that was certain. White hair from a recalcitrant ponytail was flipped back over one shoulder as Weiss’ slender fingers toyed with the multi-colored barrel of a rapier. The heiress’ footwork was a bit of a mystery; offset to the left, legs tensed, as if the plan was to walk on the air itself. Blake hadn’t been able to discern what Weiss’ Semblance was at a glance, unlike that girl Ruby who shed petals like a garden in full bloom. That sort of speed seemed useful, even if the effect was inordinately flashy and subsequently revealing.
The solid grind of gears warned that her turn was fast approaching. Blake loosed the slack of Gambol Shroud’s ribbon around one wrist, ready to draw the blade from its sheath the platform shot her into the sky. Despite the risk, she took a split second to tug at the cuff of her sleeve, ensuring it wouldn’t slip down in the force of the wind.
Springs snapped under her feet and she was airborne, holding her breath until she reached the top of the arc. Blake exhaled sharply and flipped forward, feeling the resistance against her clothes, the chill along what skin was bare. There were only so many ways to slow the descent, and by the time her boots were gracelessly clipping leaves off the tops of trees, Blake had a solid grip on Gambol Shroud’s hilt, prepared to toss it as a last minute save if the fall was higher than expected.
Forcing her body into a straight line, she dropped like a stone between gaps in the foliage, landing on a branch that swayed and bent before it steadied under her weight. Pressing back against the trunk, Blake went still, feeling a subtle twitch beneath her bow as she strained to listen. Gunshots echoed in the sky above, but there was no answering snarl or howl. The Grimm were too smart to come lumbering out at the first sign of an intruder in their woods; they would wait until someone isolated could be cornered, preferring the ten-to-one odds of an easy kill to a larger share in the meal.
Her target couldn’t be far. Blake frowned as she caught the scent of phosphorus and gunpowder on the air, lacking the bitter sapor of soot. The source became apparent with a triumphant yell overhead, followed by a gold and tan blur. There was a click of cartridges reloading before Yang spun in a tight corkscrew, launched by the next shot of those bright gauntlets out of sight. Even in the blonde’s absence, the odor of a freshly lit match remained, sulfur lingering on the back of her tongue like she had just swallowed fire, a mephitic tang.
Blake sighed, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders. Everyone had to have landed by now; the hunt was on. She jumped to the next thick branch without disturbing a single leaf, finding a rhythm as each step took her deeper into the tangle. Silence breeds discipline, Blake. Ducking the remains of a Nevermore nest with an inch to spare, she swung a tight turn with Gambol Shroud, leaving a clean slice through the bark. Keeping the temple to her right would be the key, making a circular sweep around its boundaries until she found who she was looking for.
A sluggish hiss drew Blake’s attention to the ground. The dueling heads of a Taijitu had been roused, baring twin mouths full of serpentine fangs. It could snap up into the branches if it wanted to, but the creature was drawn to a boy in green -- Ren, if she remembered correctly -- who lacked an advantage in both height and distance from his position. When he started to retreat, Blake turned away, delving into the thick crown of another tree. Anyone skilled enough to earn a spot at Beacon would have the wherewithal to defeat a single Grimm. Ozpin had a reputation to maintain, after all.
By the time she’d outrun the hiss and slither of the Taijitu, someone’s stray shot or lick of fire had filled the copse with the stench of charred wood. Blake glanced around, looking for the cause, but there was no one in sight, no plume of smoke to trace. No matter what was uttered about Faunus under everyone’s breath, sense of smell could only guide her so far. Another swing dropped her halfway down into the next tree, cutting off the view of the sky in exchange for a better vantage point into the depths of the bushes.
There was a low rustle before an Ursa clambered out, claws impatiently biting into the dirt. It had the lean build of a beast left hungry a season too long, all appetite and no rationale, rearing back before it set off in the opposite direction. A low growl further in the distance signaled there was another lying in wait, summoning a bit of help before it lunged. Blake crept further down the length of the branch before tumbling forward, waiting until the very last second to meet the air. Her landing was muted by the grass, another roll tucking her behind a neck-high thicket.
Beyond the breathing of the Ursi, there were footsteps with an even gait, accented by a short, thick heel. Was it Yang again? Blake cursed herself for not paying attention to everyone’s footwear; it would have made tracking by sound alone that much easier. Curiosity lured her forward, mindful of the Grimm still in range. Gambol Shroud could pull her back up to the trees in an instant, but that wasn’t an excuse for complacency.
It was Yang. The blonde was walking through a wide clearing, apparently heedless of the Ursi that had been jostled awake by her landing. Blake slipped behind a tree, taking a brief moment to ease the ache in her thighs from staying crouched for so long. Falling back into the brush would give her enough space to avoid Yang’s attention, even if it left the other girl unawares of the Grimm approaching from behind.
“Hello!” The yell startled her, prompting a quick dash back into the bushes. “Is anyone out there?”
Blake held back a groan of dismay and plucked a few broken stems out of the top of her hair. Yang had been bellowing the question to the entire forest, not her specifically. A light tug pulled Gambol’s ribbon back out of the shrub where the slack had caught out on a winding branch.
“Hello!” Yang shouted again. “I’m getting bored here.”
Through the underbrush, Blake could see the tips of the other girl’s boots, polished and reinforced. A few more steps and Yang would be nearly on top of her, but a snap of branches on the other side of the clearing drew the blonde’s attention, heels making a sharp, quick turn. She had never been more grateful to a Grimm in her life.
Ten more steps in that swagger of a stride put Yang within reach of the hidden Ursa’s swipe, but the beast was cautious, not leaping forward even when the bushes concealing it were parted open by black-gloved hands.
“Ruby, is that you?” Yang asked, making Blake’s brow knit. Of course the blonde would be looking for her sister. They had to know each other well enough in combat to make a striking duo. “Nope.”
The Ursa roared as it was uncovered, lunging with both massive arms ready to rend open its prey. Yang dodged without a second’s delay, gauntlets transforming in a series of clicks. That gunpowder scent returned, the first shot fired as the second Ursa leapt into the fray. Blake gulped down a breath as fire exploded from Yang’s fists, propelling heavy blows right into the skull of the closest Grimm.
A flip put Yang out of range of the next swipe by centimeters, prompting a full-throated laugh by the time the girl landed. Blake’s mouth tightened into a frown as she saw a golden strand of hair float by; apparently one claw had nicked a wayward lock. The amusement she expected to see was suddenly overcome with a swell of rage, Yang’s Aura exploding outward in a halo of fire. Blake felt a wave of heat as the air itself was consumed by the flames, orange and yellow swelling like a taunt to the Ursa’s size before Yang launched forward.
Blake pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling the cold edge of Gambol Shroud press flush against the coils of ribbon around her arm. The weight was steadying, familiar. Every solid thud of Yang’s knuckles against pitch black fur and muscle was accompanied with another angry burst of fire, sending one of the Ursa through a tight cluster of trees that instantly turned scorched and brittle. The second Grimm was closing fast, ready to shred through the blonde’s exposed back with claws and teeth alike. That flame would be snuffed out in an instant, leaving nothing but the acrid splash of blood and gore behind.
She knew better. Her arm tensed up as she forced herself to stand, the strain making Blake grit her teeth before she aimed the blade and let it fly. The ribbon slid smooth as silk away from her arm, pulling taut the moment steel found purchase six inches deep in the Ursa’s skull. A confused growl was the last sound the beast made before she followed its descent, the beast’s body crashing on its stomach a few feet away from Yang. Blake whipped the blade back with a single tug, palm open wide to catch it.
Look away, Blake, look--
Yang’s eyes were the same shade as lilac petals, out of sorts with the rest of the girl except for the fact that they were bright, lush color. Bright like the sun, the corona of fire that could erupt at any instant from the blonde’s skin. Blake could taste it as if she’d pressed her lips to molten metal, plunged herself into the heart of a forge. She swallowed past her racing pulse, letting her mouth quirk in a reflexive smile.
“I could have taken him.” Yang said with a grin.
Blake felt her smile break, reminded of her mission by the cold feeling that clutched tight around her heart. She had already gone off the plan, completely off the mark. There wasn’t any way to salvage it without breaking the rules or relying on dumb luck, which was the purview of fools and prophets. Yang, thankfully, didn’t seem bothered by her lack of a response gesturing with one collapsing gauntlet to the trees past the curve of the mountain.
“This way, you think?” She asked.
Blake shrugged. It was the general direction they had to go, and she could take the lead if Yang got turned around. “Sure.”
From the other girl’s bombastic introduction the night before, she expected non-stop attempts to start a conversation, but Yang was surprisingly quiet, falling into an even pace alongside her. The Grimm gave them a fair berth, although whether it was because they heard the agonized deaths of their fellows or were distracted by other hunters-to-be, Blake couldn’t say. Walking was a bit slower than she liked, but expecting Yang to follow her breakneck pace up in the branches may have been asking too much.
When they came over the edge of a hill, the temple was revealed, nestled in a thick circle of trees and uneven ground. Yang spared a glance her way in silent confirmation before they started to work their way down, stopping in the center of the carved stone circle. Several of the columns had already been stripped of their relics, which was impressive. Perhaps she hadn’t been the only one privy to the location ahead of time.
Blake narrowed her eyes at the black bishop piece, wondering if any traps awaited whoever plucked it from its stand. That would be a much better test of survival and wits than doing backflips over the backs of a few Grimm. She was about to reach for it and see when the weight of Yang’s stare settled between her shoulders. For a split second she was concerned her ears were visible from behind, but a single cautionary twitch proved that they were still well and bound beneath the bow. Perhaps breaking the silence would help.
“Chess...pieces?” Blake asked aloud.
Yang let out an agreeable hum. “Some of them are missing. Looks like we weren’t the first ones here.”
She turned on her heel to face the blonde, deciding to let the bishop be for a moment. “Well, I guess we should pick one.”
Yang spared only a few seconds to considering the matter, plucking the nearest relic from its perch without an iota of caution. Despite Blake’s reservations, nothing happened when the other girl picked up the golden knight, weighing the heft of it in one hand as if it was a ball to be tossed instead of the badge of their initiation.
“How about a cute little pony?” Yang asked.
Blake blinked, exchanging her disbelief for another small smile. “Sure.”
She did a quick count of the relics. If there were four to a team, then this could still be fixed. It was just a matter of ensuring the right students were handed the right pieces. Closing the distance between her and Yang, Blake put her back to the remaining knights, hoping her presence would be enough of a deterrent to taking them. The type of relic didn’t matter for the sake of the initiation; surely the others would claim the rest without thinking about it.
“That wasn’t too hard.” Yang said, passing the knight from hand to hand.
Blake shrugged. “It’s not like this place is hard to find.”
When the screech of a Nevermore cut through the air, her eyes flickered upward. The bird’s prodigious wingspan briefly eclipsed the sun, making it look like a solid black shape before it shot forward, revealing two girls clinging to its razor-sharp feathers for dear life. When Blake squinted, she could make out a scarlet cape snapping openly in the wind on one and the snowflake etched on the back of the other. Their grip wouldn’t hold for long, be it because the beast shook them off or the better idea of braving the fall.
For once, luck was on her side.
---
The lights above the stage were huge.
Blake hadn’t been in front of this many humans since she carried a sign for the White Fang, the faces of Beacon’s students blending into a monolithic mass of color and noise. Even after Ozpin tapped his cane against the floor for silence, an undercurrent of indecipherable chatter remained in laughs and whispers. As each team was announced, the crowd would briefly erupt with a cheer and thunderous applause, like they were celebrating the achievements of friends instead of perfect strangers. By the time Cardin Winchester was basking in his newfound leadership position, she had stopped tensing at the clapping, trying to keep her expression calm and empty.
It was difficult when her ears ached, trapped for far too long underneath the bow. There hadn’t been a moment to slip away since they returned from the forest as they were immediately ushered to the auditorium by Goodwitch, who had offered a sedate congratulations and instructions to stay put after everyone was settled into teams. Blake wasn’t used to keeping her Faunus heritage concealed; there was never a reason to in the past. Only the fear that everyone watching would notice a twitch if she adjusted the ribbon kept her hands still, clenched into loose fists at her side.
When their announcement came, Yang rushed past her to crush Ruby in a hug, both entirely oblivious to the resentful stare Weiss leveled in their direction. Blake stifled a small smile; it was clear the heiress had expected to hold rank here as well, as if a fortune and reputation could serve as a replacement for charisma. She noted the bruised ego just like she had noted Ruby’s age -- fifteen -- with a fair amount of surprise. Skipping two years of combat school was no mean feat, much less with a weapon as complicated as a scythe. As often as the mechanics of Gambol Shroud had earned her an occasional stare, it was a far lighter weapon in comparison, the blades balanced to ease their burden.
“All first year students must now report to the second floor to claim their uniforms and scrolls.” Goodwitch’s voice boomed with authority, even absent a microphone. “Dinner will be served shortly after.”
“Good, I’m starving.” Yang muttered, Ruby’s stomach offering a veritable growl in agreement.
Weiss didn’t comment, continuing to seethe, but Blake was feeling the growing pangs of hunger too. She had gone plenty of days absent food before, although never after anything as thoroughly exhausting as fighting the Nevermore. There was still a long run ahead when their orientation was finished; Blake hoped the school didn’t look unkindly on those who filled their trays with second and third helpings.
Ruby led them to the single-file line exiting the stage with a confident stride, nearly bouncing with every step as Goodwitch started to dismiss the other students back to their dorms. Blake stiffened a little when she heard Yang’s knuckles crack from behind her, the pop that followed of Ember Celica’s exterior plates. Even out of battle, that subtle hint of gunpowder and stifled flame was there, muted as it was by the scent of their sweat and Weiss’ perfume; the latter was strange, heavy with notes of fameuse and white rose. Nothing like the cedar and undertones of leather she was used to.
Their uniforms were passed out by an older man who asked everyone their name twice, rheumy blue eyes pinching together before he checked off each name on his list. Blake wasn’t overly inclined to the skirt, but it would do as well as anything else. Another twinge went through her ears and she held back a hiss of pain, fingers biting into the golden piping of the jacket.
“Do you think I can wear my cape with this?” Ruby asked, holding up the shirt. “I mean, it’s red. It matches, right?”
“There was a list of approved accessories in the orientation handout.” Weiss said. “Didn’t you read it?”
Yang frowned. “Was that what they gave us on the airship? I think most of those were paper cranes by the time we landed.”
Weiss’ aggravated huff was cut off by Goodwitch’s reappearance with a group of senior students, all holding neck-high stacks of scrolls. They were passed out one by one, still collapsed into small white bricks. Blake turned hers over, examining the small logo etched in the corner over the battery case. In silver letters underneath the snowflake it read: Powered by the Schnee Dust Company. All Rights Reserved.
“Hold down the yellow diamond on the left to turn your scroll on.” Goodwitch said, demonstrating with the one in her hand and displaying it to the line. “A screen should come up and allow you to register it to your name and team. Tomorrow morning you’ll receive a mail to download the key software for your rooms. If you have any issue registering your scroll, please raise your hand.”
By the time Goodwitch had finished, Blake saw Weiss’ fingers flying across the front of the screen, dragging the icons around to organize them into even lines. Ruby was entering her name with cautious single-finger typing while Yang seemed to be curiously comparing the color of the power diamond to the shade of her golden hair. Blake opened the scroll with a soft sigh, watching as it flickered to life.
She punched in the team designation first, fingers hovering over the digital keys after she tabbed to the section for her name. There were no arrests under the Belladonna name, not since her parents were killed. Blake remembered the police handcuffing her at plenty of White Fang demonstrations, but even they didn’t want the bad press of throwing a child in jail for the night, Faunus or not, so there was never a file added to her permanent record. She had learned to slip from the cuffs by the time she turned ten, anyway. If Ozpin had accepted her transcripts at face value, using her last name shouldn’t be a risk.
Shouldn’t, wouldn’t, maybe. There were too many variables to keep track of. Blake typed in her name quickly, a soft chime emanating from the scroll as it loaded the home screen. The scrape and clatter of footsteps warned that the line was moving once more, this time towards the cafeteria. She pressed the button to close the device again, reminding herself to find out its full capabilities when there was a spare moment.
When the wide double doors opened at the end of the hall, the clash of noise and scents outweighed the auditorium’s fervor ten times over. Students -- mostly human, although Blake caught sight of one dark tail and a set of horns -- milled around with trays laden down with food, searching for spare seats while teammates shouted at one another over the dull roar and clatter of silverware. Blake tucked her scroll and uniform tight under one arm before they were led into the fray, allowing her ribbon-bound hand to remain free.
Yang’s knuckles tapped her shoulder as they pushed their way into the main line. “You think the food here is any good?”
It didn’t smell terrible, at least. “I’m not sure.”
Yang shrugged. “I’ll just try a little of everything, I guess.”
‘Everything’ was comprised of a dozen different counters along one wall, offering an unbelievable variety. Piles of precariously stacked fruit were next to a butcher’s worth of meat, the desserts alone taking up a wealth of space, comprised of puddings and pies and too many kinds of pastries to count. Blake watched Ruby surreptitiously push a heap of chocolate chip cookies onto her tray, adding an apple after a second thought. Weiss was putting together a salad that looked more intricate than edible as Yang started to build what seemed to be a monstrous triple decker sandwich.
Blake took three plates, stacking the first with whole salmon from one of the foil-wrapped displays. They were still steaming hot, sliced just right to be pulled apart, but it seemed like she had been the first to take any. Maybe the eyes put them off. The next she filled with salad and the last with a couple of oranges and a banana, frowning at the grotesque smiling face the arrangement of the fruit made.
Weiss cleared a space for them at the end of one table with a chilling glare, prompting a pair of casually sprawled upperclassmen to straighten up and move further down the bench. Ruby and Yang took the seats at the edge of each side, the sandwich the blonde had made swaying dangerously until the tray was put down. The bread was soaked through with fish sauce and chili oil, but that didn’t stop Yang from picking it up with both hands and squishing it together tightly enough to take a bite.
Blake ate in silence, using a fork to strip the salmon down to the bones and savoring every bite. It was different than the rich food she was used to, the kind that sat in her stomach like a stone until she was excused from the meal. By the time she’d gotten to the last plate, hands occupied with peeling the first orange, Yang’s stare had become painfully apparent. The sandwich had been reduced to a scattering of crumbs and a few drops of oil, but Weiss was still idly spearing cherry tomatoes and eating them one by one, meaning she wasn’t the only one being waited on.
“Damn, Blake.” The blonde’s smile was broad, without a hint of guile. “You didn’t seem like the type to clear off three plates.”
“Post-combat nutrition is important.” Weiss remarked, eyes pointedly directed towards Ruby’s plate. The cookies were gone, but the apple was only half-eaten.
“I’m not knocking that. I just don’t know where she’s putting it.” Yang said, looking back her way. “I saw you tossing that blade around out there. You’re ripped.”
Blake hesitated, fingertips biting into the flesh of the orange. What was she supposed to say in this situation? “Thank you.”
“This team’s going to rock, no question. Right, Ruby?” Yang took her sister’s somewhat tired grin in answer. “Especially now that Weiss has come around.”
The heiress’ shoulders became a rigid line. “Come around? I’m not going to apologize for being caught in an explosion.”
That was the spark for a three-way argument, Ruby’s stammered apology countered by Yang’s indignant protest. Blake felt herself tuning the words out, splitting the orange in half as soon as it was peeled and eating a segment. As dinner was winding, the sun had set, replaced by the disintegrating circle of the moon. They would be sent to bed soon enough, she wagered, expected to be up bright and early for the first day of classes. She wasn’t expecting to get a great deal of sleep.
After their dishes were loaded into the revolving washer, a deeply embarrassed Ruby led the trek back up to the dorms, avoiding looking Weiss in the eye. Yang was flustered for an entirely different reason, arms crossed as if it would hold another burst of anger back. Blake had been waiting for sparks to fly, the blonde’s Aura to swell and burst into flame, but the heat had never come. She tried not to think too hard about why that was disappointing, nor about how her pulse had quickened due to being in such close proximity.
Cleaning up in the bathroom felt like a ruse, especially after she tucked her clothes under her new bed, ready to change back into them after everyone else was lost to slumber. The shower was nice at least, water scalding the remnants of sweat and dirt from her skin. Blake had removed her bow the second she closed the door of the stall, hard-pressed not to let out a telling groan of relief. As the spray worked its magic between her shoulder blades, Blake carefully massaged the ears atop her head, feeling a wave of fatigue hit her the moment she stopped. It would have been easy to fall asleep under the steady pulse of water, locked away from the rest of the world.
When she emerged, Yang and Ruby were long since passed out, the former having kicked the comforter to the foot of the bed while the latter was wrapped in blankets like a cocoon. Weiss lay on one side in a light blue nightgown, face taut with concentration as her fingers worked across the screen of her scroll. She didn’t spare a glance upward when Blake approached, frown deepening when the device let out an erroneous beep.
“What are you doing?” Blake asked.
Weiss’ brow knit at the interruption. “I’m trying to improve the battery life on this. The Dust coils on this model are terribly inefficient.”
She let out a soft, curious hum. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”
“Is there something you want or do you just enjoy pestering me about my father’s company?” Weiss’ eyes didn’t glow bright like Yang’s when frustration reared its ugly head; they hardened, shards of ice like struck flint splintered off in flakes. “You do seem to know so much about it.”
“No more than anyone else who pays attention.” Blake said softly. “Sleep well.”
The second remark cut off the heiress’ retort, anger crumbling under the weight of surprise. Blake turned away without another word, slipping beneath the sheets and preparing herself to stare at a wall until Weiss’ exhaustion got the best of her. Fighting her own was far more difficult than the boredom of the wait; her expectations of the beds were far surpassed, comfortable enough to draw her into slumber if she didn’t occasionally let her nails bite into her palms.
When the light of Weiss’ scroll finally dimmed, Blake started to stretch beneath the sheets, working some of the tension out of her calves and shoulders. If she was going to run through a forest for a second time today, no amount of warm-up was too much. When her body was warm enough to make the sheets just this side of suffocating, Blake pushed them away as quietly as she could before removing her pajamas. No one stirred as she got dressed again, listening to all three bodies breathing out of sync until she slipped out of the door, holding the door as it closed to ensure there was no click when the lock engaged.
After taking a second to get her bearings, Blake began to retrace her steps back out of Beacon, listening for any professors that might have found it prudent to enforce the curfew. The campus was a sprawl, with too many back rooms and maze-like halls for her to memorize on a single trip. When she slipped out a window and dropped soundlessly to the ground, the first breath of fresh air was revitalizing. The night had a faint chill, mist starting to gather and congeal, viscous in quality, but the cold gave the impetus Blake needed to break into a full run.
A few wide sweeps of Dust-powered lanterns proved that there was something resembling security inside the gates, but Blake simply switched direction until she was outside the perimeter, the cobble under her feet becoming damp grass and wildflowers. Forever Fall was in the opposite direction of the Emerald Forest, its crimson-crowned trees beckoning in the distance. She pushed herself just a bit faster, idly doing a flip over a massive rock that had been split in half by some unknown force an age ago, gripped through and through with moss and lichen. The solitude was a gift after hours spent in the crush of the crowd, much less sneaking through the trees to the temple for the sake of a bauble.
Despite the risk, Blake reached up and undid the knot in her bow, wrapping the shorter ribbon around the wrist she kept bare. Everything became louder, her senses sharper as the chirps and scurrying of lesser beasts met her ears, as terrified of her approach as they would be a Grimm. Red leaves fell around her as she ran deeper into the forest, keeping an eye out for a golden light. There had been no specified time, save that it be after everyone was asleep, but Blake knew that despite the words, some manner of punctuality was expected. She had no intent to disappoint.
It wasn’t a light so much as a diffuse glow around a single tree, like a will-o’-the-wisp wandering in circles to lure wayward travelers. The trunk was several feet thick, every branch carrying decades of twists and turns. Blake had to tilt her head all the way up to see the uppermost leaves, feeling her eyes strain to tell one from another. There was no one concealed there despite her first instincts, the adrenaline from the run through the woods fading to a nervous twist low in her gut.
“Hello, Blake.”
She whirled on her heel immediately, one hand reaching for Gambol Shroud. Her fingers stopped an inch short from the hilt, lowering back to her side as quickly as they had risen. Cinder’s eyes pierced her like no weapon ever could, glowing bright enough to hurt if she dared to hold the older woman’s gaze too long. A pitch black hood concealed dark curls, the cape flowing over both shoulders. Blake knew every inch of the nearly-invisible runes underneath the crushed velvet, how they could ignite without a second’s notice, bringing hellfire in their wake. She lowered her head, even if the gesture of respect sent tension rippling down the length of her back.
“Always so shy.” Cinder murmured, and Blake fought not to wince when dark nails traced across her temple, drifting down the line of her jaw. Cedar and leather was scattered in the few drops of perfume across the inside of the older woman’s wrist, cloying and familiar. “Did you succeed?”
“We’re on the same team.” Blake said softly.
“You’re partners?” Cinder asked, fingertips going still an inch above her pulse.
Blake closed her eyes. “By the time I found her, she already had a partner.”
It wasn’t a lie. That lay in the fact that she hadn’t run from Yang, that she had followed that scent, let herself be hypnotized by arcs of fire and heat. Among so many strangers, the blonde’s Aura was as familiar as it was terrifying, drawing her in like the proverbial moth. Blake took each breath as slowly as she could, knowing any sudden movement would rouse Cinder’s wrath, a furor too quick to leap to the fore. She was already so tired, and there were hours yet before she would be allowed to sleep.
“That’s a shame, although I suppose it was always a possibility.” Blake’s head was tilted up, the press of nails under her chin forcing her to open her eyes. “Tell me your mission.”
“Get close to the Schnee heiress.” She whispered.
“Yes, get close.” Cinder’s honeyed tone wrapped around the words like a serpent. “I want you to be a reliable anchor, the one she’ll trust when everything goes awry. Make friends of them all, mind your leader, but get closest to her. Your name should be first on her lips, as if you were sisters.”
“I--” Blake grimaced. “I don’t know how.”
The smile that followed, bright and polished, was more unsettling than a slap. “I know it’s easy to forget, sweetling, but you’re only seventeen. Watch her, find what ties you share. Another girl understanding her burdens will go a long way.”
Blake nodded, even though it pushed those nails deeper into her skin. “And then?”
“That will come later.” Cinder’s hand fell away, a faint sting remaining in its wake. “I wouldn’t want you to be caught up in the details. Give me your scroll.”
Blake handed the device over without a word, watching as Cinder cracked open the back of the case. The older woman drew something small from the confines of the cloak, the tiny wires sticking from it glowing orange, and inserted it between the two Dust batteries. Something fizzled and Cinder closed the scroll, dropping it back into Blake’s upturned palm.
“That will allow me to hijack a signal and speak with you. Ozpin won’t be able to trace it. When I need something, you’ll know. Otherwise I want all your focus on your first task.”
Blake nodded again, expecting anything but Cinder closing the distance between them, a kiss placed between her two unbound ears. There was barely any contact, a whisper of warm breath, a soft exhalation, but fingers tangled in the back of her hair, stroking slowly as if to soothe a startled animal. She hated how easily her body succumbed, face pressed against one rune-marked shoulder. Speaking was impossible, or at least unintelligible, positioned like this, just as Cinder preferred. The older woman’s embrace was a cage she had climbed back into over and over, chasing distant flickers of affection.
“I made a deal with the leader of the White Fang tonight.” Blake’s eyes went wide, fear telegraphed by the way every muscle in her body went rigid, prompting Cinder’s lips to curl, even if she couldn’t see Blake’s face. “He thought my plan was a revelation. Holding the heiress hostage, the real backbone of resistance broken. For a brute of his sort, he was surprisingly quick to catch on.”
Blake said nothing, praying it was a trick, some sort of cruel joke. She had run from them, left the wolf behind, only for it to crawl into Cinder’s bed and offer promises. That sort of alliance could plummet all of Vytal into war, with no victor but destruction.
“Oh, Blake. There’s no need to fear him.” Cinder sighed, winding a few black strands around one finger. “I raised you up from that rebel blood, didn’t I? Dragged you from the gutter and into my care.”
“Yes.” The word was muffled, but loud enough to be heard, she thought.
Pain shot through Blake’s body as Cinder buried that hand in her hair and roughly yanked back, wrenching her neck back until the line of her throat was exposed, ready to be torn out, ligaments bunched and severable. The scent of sulfur filled her senses, threatening to choke unless she took a ragged breath. It barely helped; stinging as she swallowed, that molten gold gaze about to ignite, to burn her alive.
“Yes?” Cinder hissed.
“Yes...Mother.” Blake gasped.
She was shoved away the moment the answer was given, the rage brimming so close to the surface cooling a few degrees. Sparks danced in Cinder’s palm, tracing veins and lifelines, desperate for some tinder, be it the older woman’s Aura or someone else’s skin, to breathe them into an inferno.
“I haven’t told him who my pawn on the inside is, Blake. If you fail me, he will know, and I’m sure the White Fang would love to give you a traitor’s homecoming.” Cinder smiled. “You told me so much about them in the beginning, after all.”
“I won’t fail you.” Blake said. “I swear.”
“Then mind that ungrateful tongue.” Cinder’s fingers tightened into a fist, extinguishing the sparks. “Turn around.”
There was no point in resisting, not when a single open-handed strike, fingers raked into claws, could send her flying through the forest, snapping bone and scorching flesh. Blake turned to face the tree, watching as the light around it ebbed and flowed, powered by an unknown source. Having somewhere to focus always made the time pass faster, pain becoming a tolerable haze once it went on long enough. She would breathe through it, let her Aura heal the damage, and it would be as if nothing ever happened at all.
The blow she was waiting for never came. There was a crackling behind her, fire snarling hungrily as it feasted, but no breath or solid presence. When Blake risked turning her head an inch, she saw a black circle branded into the grass, dying sparks trying to gain a foothold in withered roots.
She was alone.